Hidden Edges

Posted on Sat Sep 26th, 2026 @ 1:40am by Captain Mhiess Hru’da & Lieutenant Commander Lin Yue

1,385 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Bloodline
Location: Gymnasium, USS Saratoga
Timeline: 2439-08-12, 16:00

ON

The rhythmic snap of metal against metal echoed softly through the Saratoga's auxiliary gymnasium as Lin Yue moved through the forms. Dressed in close-fitting black training attire, she stood barefoot upon the padded floor, one tessen held lightly in each hand. The folded fans looked almost delicate at rest, but in her grip they became extensions of her wrists—opening with a sharp flick, closing with a controlled click. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, every movement economical and deliberate. A pivot, a step, a turn of the hips; one fan swept across her centreline while the other rose to intercept an imaginary strike. There was no wasted motion, no flourish for its own sake. Her breathing remained slow and measured, falling into rhythm with each movement.

The next sequence came faster. Lin dipped beneath an imagined blow, her body folding with practiced precision before she turned sharply on the ball of her foot. One tessen snapped open as she rose, the reinforced ribs catching the light before she drove its edge toward an unseen opponent's wrist. She withdrew immediately, rotating the fan through her fingers before the second followed in a short, vicious arc toward the throat. Neither strike would have been necessary to complete the form, but Lin had never considered combat an art of unnecessary movement. Her instructors had taught her that the fan's greatest advantage was deception: an object associated with elegance and ceremony becoming, in the space between one heartbeat and the next, something considerably more dangerous. She finished the sequence with both fans crossed before her chest, perfectly balanced, and held the position for three measured breaths.

Then she heard it—a subtle change in the room behind her. Not a footstep. Not even the sound of breathing. Merely the instinctive awareness that came from years of learning to notice what others overlooked. Lin remained motionless, the fans still poised in her hands. Her eyes settled on her reflection in the darkened observation panel ahead, watching the faint movement behind her without turning her head. Someone was there. Watching. A faint smile touched the corner of her mouth as she slowly lowered one fan. "You know," she said calmly, "most people announce themselves before entering a sparring partner's blind spot."

Mhiess remained standing in the shadows just inside the gym’s entrance, his tall, formidable frame framed by the soft ambient lighting of the compartment. He had not attempted to hide his presence, but his naturally fluid, measured movements—honed by decades of discipline—demanded absolute quiet from his surroundings.

"In a real engagement, Lieutenant, an adversary rarely affords you the courtesy of an announcement," Mhiess said as he took two deliberate steps forward, his boots striking the padded deck with a soft, muted thud as he stepped out of the dim periphery and into her line of sight. He quickly swept over the pair of tessen held in her hands, noting the balance, the reinforced ribbing, and the pristine, unhurried precision of her previous sequence. He stopped just past the threshold, bringing his hands together behind his back in a relaxed yet commanding parade rest.

"I observed your final form from the entry alcove," he continued calmly, his expression unreadable. "Economical. Direct. Zero wasted kinetic energy. It is rare to see martial arts practiced with such pragmatic lethality outside of tactical simulation rooms."

“Tessenjutsu is a defensive martial art, sir,” Lin corrected quietly, without a trace of defensiveness despite the impression her practice might have given. “It is not intended to be lethal.”

She regarded the fan in her hand for a moment, her thumb resting lightly along the metal ribs. “That said, one should practice an art with the same precision and conviction one would employ in a live combat situation. Otherwise, the mind grows complacent, and the body follows.” A faint, almost amused smile touched her lips. “Besides, it gives me an opportunity to practice fan dancing. Many of the movements are similar, if not identical. The transition between the two disciplines is rather natural.”

Noticing where the Captain's attention had settled, Lin gently tossed one of the fans across the space between them. It opened slightly as it turned, the metal catching the light before coming to rest in his hand. “Those were a gift from my grandmother,” she added, her voice softening almost imperceptibly. “She was a geisha as well.”

Mhiess caught the weapon effortlessly, his large hand closing around the fan's frame with deliberate, measured control. He didn't snap it shut; instead, he evaluated the balance and reinforced ribbing with the silent scrutiny of a former tactical officer. "A tool that conceals lethality beneath grace is the most pragmatic defense of all, Lieutenant," Mhiess noted softly, his baritone steady as he lightly turned the fan in his grip. "Respect for your heritage and your weapon keeps both sharp." He extended his arm, returning the tessen handle-first with impassive courtesy. "Maintain this standard. When the Saratoga faces an unannounced threat, I will expect that same fluid precision from your tactical post."

“I would hope words would be the first weapon of choice, sir,” Lin replied, the faintest hint of amusement touching her voice. “I may be a tactical officer, but I would be remiss in my duty if violence were ever my first recourse. Conflict is often won long before the first weapon is drawn.”

She accepted the tessen with practiced gentleness, snapping the clasp closed before turning the fan thoughtfully in her hand. “I believe it was Edward Bulwer-Lytton who first wrote that the pen is mightier than the sword. I have always found some truth in that sentiment. Diplomacy can be a hidden edge in any conflict—a means of achieving what force cannot, while leaving everyone involved with something resembling dignity.” With that, she deftly worked the closed fans back into the base of her carefully formed bun, concealing them so completely that they appeared little more than elegant personal adornments.

She smoothed a stray lock of hair back into place and offered the Captain a small, knowing smile. “Though,” she added, with a touch of dry humour, “one should never show all of one's hand.”

"Diplomacy is merely warfare conducted by other means, Lieutenant," Mhiess stated smoothly, a faint, almost imperceptible twitch of a brow was the only outward sign of Mhiess's reaction as he absorbed her words. His eyes tracked the fluid grace with which she stowed the Tessen, appreciating the cold efficiency beneath her gentle demeanor. "A blade concealed within ceremony is still a blade. The Romulans have built empires upon that single principle, and the Klingons have fallen because they failed to understand it."

He took a slow, deliberate step back toward the Gymnasium exit, his posture remaining rigidly poised, "I do not object to diplomacy being your first recourse. In fact, I prefer it as words expend far fewer ship resources than Phasers but remember that a negotiation is only as strong as the leverage behind it. When the pen fails, I will expect your hidden edge to be swift, decisive, and absolute."

“Without fail, sir,” Lin replied, with the same gracious, centred calm she had maintained from the moment he had stepped onto the practice mats.

She had already formed an impression of the Captain. Some of her colleagues might have described him as a ‘hard ass’, but Lin saw something rather different. He was focused, decisive, and seemingly quite comfortable with the weight of command. There were certainly hard edges to him, but hard edges were not inherently a flaw. Sometimes they were necessary. Her hope was simply that, when the situation called for something gentler, he would recognise that he could turn to her for it.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, sir.” A faint, warm smile accompanied the slight inclination of her head. “And welcome aboard.”

"The pleasure is mutual, Lieutenant," Mhiess replied from just outside the gymnasium threshold. "A ship is only as secure as the minds guarding her perimeter. I have no doubt your perspective will prove a valuable asset to the Saratoga."

With a single, measured incline of his broad head, he completed his step out into the corridor. The automated doors hissed shut behind him, sealing away the quiet sanctuary of the gymnasium.

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